


Traitor

by Barbedbeat



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 02:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12098652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barbedbeat/pseuds/Barbedbeat
Summary: A flickering insight on the shenanigans of Aloth Corfiser's past life.





	Traitor

“Cornered. I have been cornered.”

These were the scrambled contours of the concept that screamed through her mind, struggling to rise above the sloshing of blood in her ears. Her fingertips scratched the musky surface of a rock wall, and her lips cursed the night. She let her gaze dart all around, striving to find an opening in that shapeless black expanse of trees and mangroves, which seemed to roil and shift before her very eyes.

But there was not time.

They were upon her.

A roar of fury left her throat as the first blow landed on the back of her head, bloodying her neck and blurring her vision. A second punch hit her ear, sending a searing ring through her skull.

“WHY,” a livid, breathless bellow brought her to her senses, and a hand as big as an anvil grabbed her hair and pushed her further against the rock face. “THEY’RE DEAD. THEY’RE DEAD, ALL OF THEM. AND IT’S YOUR FAULT.” The pressure on her nape increased. “YOU BLOODY TRAITOR.” The stench of sweat filled her nostrils, and the warm breath of her attacker lapped her cheek. He was a folk man- whom she knew went by the name of “Cyrdel”- more than one head taller than her and two times larger. “WHY DID YOU DO IT?” Her forehead throbbed uncomfortably against the stone. “WHY?”

The rustling of leaves to her left announced the presence of a second person a few steps behind her. “Yes. Yes, wh-… why? Why, woman?” That whiney, fright-shaken voice belonged to Elgrun, a scrawny elven youth with a knack for cowardice.

“ANSWER ME.” Two rows of yellowing teeth glinted in the moonlight, mere inches from her face.

The woman did not reply. But the wildest of grins had started to bend her lips upwards, replacing her dread with another feeling, one equally primal, yet delightfully predatory. For she knew fear and frustration to be dangerous enemies, and the two men were a step from boiling over.

“WHY DID YOU BETRAY US? YOU-” The man’s last word died in his throat, choked by the woman’s sudden burst of laughter. There, crushed under his palm, her blood and sweat-encrusted face pressed hard on the rocks, Iselmyr stood cackling. It was a shrill, scorn-filled, defiant bark, that sent a red jolt through his brain and made his chest burst with rage. “Kill her! Kill the bitch, Cyrdel!”

A furious howl dribbled through his teeth as the man shifted his weight, his arm held backwards, fingers knotted into a livid punch.

Just what she wanted.

She pressed her hands flat on the wall and pushed. Her elbow met his nose with a sickening thud, and did not stop until the man’s body lied motionless under her knees.

He might have been big and strong, but that man was no warrior. He was a cook, to be exact, and a very good one at that.

And that was why she had spared him, along with that neurotic mess of an elven boy.

Right. The boy.

“Oi, laddie, listen up. Ye walk back the way we came for a good day an’ a half and make a right at the red mangrove patch. Ye’ll find a wee town there, called ‘Old Ward’. It’s safe there. Just try an’ keep yer eyes open fer lions and beasties on the way.”

That was what she opened her mouth to tell Elgrun right after she’d finished catching her breath, if only her jaw hadn’t been clamped shut by the boy’s boot.

Everything went white and bright, erasing the starless sky and filling her skull with palpable noise.

Iselmyr’s consciousness returned only to find her ribs screaming in pain and the blood gurgling in her throat. She did not wait for the elf’s next kick to come. With a sudden jolt she grabbed his still leg and twisted on her back, dragging him to the ground. In a split second she was on top of him, knees on his elbows, fingers closed around his braids. Before the light of judgement could replace the primal buzz in her skull, her right hand had extracted the concealed knife in her boot. A firm tug at his hair and a swift gesture plunged Elgrun’s body into a deathly stillness. A bubbly cough erupted from her chest, as her lungs threatened to suck blood into her windpipe. With a great heave, she got up and spat a thick splotch of crimson at her feet.

Her tongue felt swollen and sore, sporting a deep cut where her teeth had been driven through the flesh by that idiot’s blow, and everything from her waist up throbbed with fresh pain. She took a few wobbly steps towards the folk’s body and put two fingers on his throat. No pulse.

She shook her head and massaged the broken skin on her elbow. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

But again, it wasn’t like they ever did.

She sighed and spat again.

The way back to camp was long, and it would be made even more laborious by the sorry state of her bones.

At the sole thought, a tired chill seeped under her skin, propelled by the moist night breeze.

She only hoped one of the others would get distracted from their post-slaughter revel long enough to notice her disappearance and come looking for her. And maybe… just maybe, help her crawl the last few miles towards a bedroll and a meal.

What mattered the most though, she thought, pulling a thin leather string around her neck, was that she had finally retrieved it. The finely engraved medallion shone under the moonlight, giving off a faint, purplish glow.

Iselmyr nodded in satisfaction.

The shade of a smile started parting her lips open as she took a few, wobbly steps towards the heart of the jungle and disappeared into its unfathomable entrails.


End file.
